


An Actual Piper at the Gates of Dawn

by Algie_On_The_Wing



Category: Pink Floyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 05:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Algie_On_The_Wing/pseuds/Algie_On_The_Wing
Summary: A part of Syd's love of fairy tales turns out to be true, if only for a brief moment.





	An Actual Piper at the Gates of Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic that I had saved. It's short, but fluffy :)

“C'mon, Rog! This way,” Syd exclaimed. He held onto Roger’s hand as he raced through the field not too far away from their flat. The younger man had seen something extraordinary the morning before, and just had to show Roger. 

“This better be good, Syd,” Roger grumbled. He was not a morning person, and being dragged into the field before sunrise was not his idea of fun. However, he did not want to hurt Syd’s feelings, so he reluctantly got up.

Roger, trying to keep up (and keep awake), ran as quickly as he could. Syd’s grip on his hand did not loosen, and his pace seemed to grow faster. Without warning, Syd stopped in his tracks, almost causing Roger to topple over him. 

“Shhh…,” Syd hushed. He crept silently through the tall, thick grass, with Roger following suit. Roger knew this part of the field; there was once another entrance here, but had fallen into disrepair. Plants and grass had grown over the fence, brick walls, and gate. As they stepped closer to the old entrance, Roger swore he could hear music. Syd suddenly stopped again, pausing behind a vine-covered part of the wall. “See, look!”

Roger could not believe his eyes. Sitting down against the old gate was a horned man with the legs of a goat. “A Satyr?” Roger whispered. He remembered Syd telling him about fairy tale creatures, one of which being the Satyr.

“Not just any Satyr,” Syd said, “it’s Pan!” Pan, of course, being a Satyr God of nature and music in Greek mythology. Syd, however, knew him from The Wind in the Willows. “Isn’t it great to see him, Rog?”

Roger stood with his mouth hanging open. Fairy tales were not true. Were they? Sitting before them, playing his signature flute, was Pan himself. “This…this really is a sight, Syd,” Roger admitted, in awe of what he saw. 

Syd smiled as he inched a bit closer, only to step on a branch. The snap was loud enough to make Pan pause. The Satyr looked down to see Syd and Roger peering behind the wall, who both swallowed nervously. Raising an eyebrow, Pan grinned mischievously before playing a tune on his flute. This melody was a different one, and seemed to have an effect on Syd and Roger. An odd sense of bliss began to take ahold of them, their thoughts growing hazy. They both slumped down to the ground as their bodies grew limp. Syd yawned quietly while Roger followed suit. With contented looks on their faces, Syd and Roger snuggled up against one another. Slowly closing their glassy eyes, both young men fell asleep. Pan glanced over to see the two fast asleep, and smiled. He soon vanished without a trace; his work here had been done.


End file.
